Victory
by Shyria
Summary: Zim is ruler of the not-so-free world! *giggle* *Update- The fourth chapter is up. Yes, I know I'm disgustingly slow at this...Hopefully this chapter will satisfy you guys until the big battle *laugh* Review peeease?
1. Victory at Last

The revolt was small. Impetuous. Crazy. Much like Zim himself, who now glaring at several view-screens from the steel desk at which he sat. He was greatly displeased with the images flashing before him, though usually the site of human suffering was a pleasurable experience.

"**Why** is this still happening?! Haven't those filthy little _stink_ beasts figured out how doomed they are?" he hissed, pounding a black-gloved fist on the desk. Revolts like this should have ceased when BrainStem had been shut down. Zim's pupiless eyes narrowed, and a sly grin arched across his face.

"Pitiful... Did they really think an operation such as BrainStem could fell my armies? Sad to think that so many of my clones had to be wasted on that ridiculous uprising," he muttered to himself. _Then why had they lasted so long?_ Zim hated to admit it, but his former nemesis had done a commendable job at resisting him. But it didn't matter anymore. Dib was carefully locked away and no one could possibly infiltrate his finest security.

Far from the office, and even from Zim's grand throne room, there was built a large containment center. Inside were rows upon rows of tubes, all containing anyone who had been deemed too much of a threat to keep in prison. Amongst the rows of human bodies frozen in their glass containers was a slightly older Dib. Suspended in some sort of Irken preservative, his eyes gazed at nothing, a look of total despair on his face. Zim had left him that way on purpose. The small alien often wandered down the halls of the containment center when he was bored, stopping to relish the wonderfully defeated look on his former enemy's face. Zim still remembered when that expression had been fresh and new, a few seconds before the tall boy wearing a trench coat was lowered into the vat of fluid.

No one regularly visited the Containment Center accept for occasional janitors who swept the dust from the floor and cleaned the surface of the tubes. The halls were dark and ominous that evening, but not empty. Scuffed boots bumped carefully across the floor leaving behind small puddles of water as they passed. Gen brushed a stray lock of red hair from her face and pressed on, trying not to throw up at the sight of all the frozen humans.

_So...this is what Zim has reduced our race to? That sick, twisted, freak..._ she thought sadly to herself, vowing that she would complete her mission.

Finally, she reached the tube that had been set apart from the rest. A quick glance at the small plaque at the bottom assured her that is was indeed her leader. "Most foul of stink beasts and most doomed of prisoners," she read it aloud in a soft whisper. The young girl's pale face lifted and she stared into the once bright eyes of her beloved leader. Something inside her stirred with pain as she stroked the glass with a fingertip.

"I'll get you out..."

Heart hammering, Gen pulled a small instrument from her coat with a sucker-like tip at the end. She shoved it into one of the small holes exposing the wiring at the bottom of the tube. Flipping a switch, Gen watched with satisfaction as the container's systems shut down and the lights that illuminated the prisoner's body flickered out. Goo drained from the tank, gently lowering the dripping body to the floor.

"Oh, Dib...look what he's done to you. Our precious leader..." she gasped, putting an ear to his chest. His heart was no longer pumping and his lungs did not expand. "No...No, this can't- Okay...Calm. Down. I know how to help... CPR..." Gen told herself. Taking a breath she leaned closer to his face, her lips falling upon Dib's cold mouth. Gen's heart raced as she breathed life into him, her arms pushing at his chest as she continued their lip-lock. Suddenly, and without warning, Dib's eyes snapped open and he was confronted with the warm lips of a girl pressing against his mouth.


	2. Bound for Trouble

Zim's eye twitched every so often as he glared out of the pentagon shaped window in his lounge. Horrible burning rain was falling from the sky outside, proving once more that he had yet to conquer Earth's hideous weather patterns. Though he knew he was safe inside, it was torturous just to hear it patter on the glass. Of course everyone would be inside, as the law had been set down long ago that no citizens of Earth were allowed outside during rainfall. Zim was rather proud of that law. Protecting the citizens was just part of being ruler.

"Keef62, bring _my friend_ in," he called to a silent Keef clone standing in the corner. Keef clones were Zim's cheap labor. They were easy to clone and each possessed a disgusting affinity for their master.

"Yes your almighty greenness, ruler of the not-so-free world, and taller then I could ever wish to be," the Keef babbled, marching out the door to carry out his orders.

Zim snorted in disgust, crossing his arms and tapping the flat of his boot against the desk. Round crimson eyes squinted shut as he admonished himself for being nervous. He, the Ultimate Ruler, had no reason to fear anything brought before him. Two minutes later Keef62 arrived, dragging behind him a young girl bound by old-fashioned metal chains. She struggled as she was dragged along, her long purple hair falling into her eyes, which remained closed. Zim swallowed as she was deposited before him on the floor.

"So here we are again," he said, unable to think of anything witty. She glared up at him from her position at the foot of his desk. Her clothing consisted of a black sleeveless top, and a dark crimson skirt that flowed past her knees and bore a slit up one side. Her feet were left bare but the skull necklace she had worn since childhood still hung around her neck.

"Don't patronize me, Zim. Let's just get this over with," she snarled, yanking on the chains that bound her in place.

"I wish you'd be kinder about this, Gaz," Zim sighed. He reached into a drawer of his desk and let the edge of a maroon electronic device peek out just enough for Gaz to see. Her eyes instantly lit up with joy, expression changing to something you'd expect on a drug withdrawal patient. Zim grinned at her reaction.

"That's better. Now Gaz, let's be friends for our time together…" he said. Her eyes were still pinned to the gameslave he held.

"I'll give you an hour to play, if you're good."

With that, Zim rose from his seat, employing the robot arms in his backpack to get him down. The little Irken began pacing around the room, a pointy finger to his chin, and his expression tight in thought.

"I could.... unlock your bonds if...you wouldn't cause trouble," he said in a soft tone of voice. Gaz answered him by spitting on the ground. Zim growled and stomped over to her, lifting up her chin with a finger.

"I'll take that as a no... Please Gaz, what reason have you to hate me?! ZIM!" he declared. Gaz looked astonished, her hands balling into fists, the chains clanking near her arms.

"You imprisoned me! You think forcing me to like you is going to work? Zim, something's obviously happened to your brain," she snarled, trying to scratch him across the cheek. Zim leaped backwards and pressed a button on his backpack, releasing the claws. They shot towards Gaz and she screamed as a small cut appeared on her face, courtesy of the sharp metal. Zim continued to stare emotionlessly at her. "I'm sorry I had to do that Gaz... You simply don't understand..." The Irken sighed and motioned to the Keef guard. "Put her back in her cell. No gameslave this time." Gaz was taken by the arms and dragged from the room, her wails echoing off the polished walls of the office. She screamed and kicked and cried, but it was all in vain. She'd have to spend another week pressing imaginary buttons on her cell wall until she was called in to meet with Zim again.

Alone again, the Irken ruler breathed a tiny sigh and curled up against the plush office chair. "Fine, Gaz. Invaders need no one. _No one._" The door was slightly ajar, and from where he sulked, Zim could see a tiny puddle of water on the floor...


	3. Lucky Garbage

Chapter 3 

"GAGH! No, Zim!" Dib cried, lurching away from Gen weakly. The redhead looked confused, her hands falling away from his chest. They stared at each other for a few moments.

"You aren't Zim."

"You thought I was _Zim?!_" Gen gagged.

Dib sighed and rubbed his eyes, trying to regain enough strength to sit up. He blinked several times, and Gen offered him his glasses. Slipping them on, he cleared his throat and she helped him up.

"Yes, but I don't think I remembered his lips being that warm," he snickered.

Gen gave him a disgusted glare. "Please, that's not even funny."

Without any explanation, Gen took him by the arm and pulled him through the dimly lit sections of the containment center. As he was dragged along, Dib was astonished at how much Zim's headquarters had changed. Before that torturous evening when he had been lowered into the preservation jelly, Dib remembered being marched through these very halls. They had been drastically different, not as polished, and certainly not so packed with preserved humans.

"Are these...the people who continued to fight after I was locked up?" Dib whispered, his throat locking a little. Gen nodded in response, navigating her way towards the door.

"And you...You're a rebel too, right?" he ventured further.

"Yes, and my mission is to restore you to leadership," she said, stopping and staring him in the eyes. "You're like a hero...a legend..."

Dib's eyes grew wide, and then narrowed again in a skeptical expression.

"That's too cliché to be true."

"Cliché or not, its true. And we desperately need your help," Gen answered, her tone serious and pleading.

"Why can't I get any **HELP** around here?!" Zim growled, stomping around a row of nervous Irken guards. They were all huddled around a trail of wet footprints leading out of the containment center, whispering curses at the evil liquid substance.

"Must I replace my finest guards with lowly Keef clones?" he hissed, glaring at them all as they cowered. The Irken ruler paced the length of the floor, this time speaking to himself in a low mutter. "The law prohibits anyone out during rainfall... Someone had the audacity to BREAK that law AND infiltrate my fortress! Oh, it pains me deeply..."

"Sir?" a guard ventured. "Remember your squeedily-spooch pressure."

Zim was far from amused. "Find the intruder. Close off all the exits. I shall be elsewhere..." and with that, he swept eloquently away, headed down one of the lime-lit corridors.

Gen and Dib were moving swiftly now through small hallways and dingy, unused rooms. Slime coated their boots as she forced them to a stop in one such decrepit room. Gen put a hand to her white lab-coat, trying to get her breath back as Dib crouched beside her on the floor. On the right of Gen's coat, Dib discovered a little embroidered patch. It featured a pair of scientific goggles with the word "BrainStem" written in yellow across them.

"BrainStem...Its-still going on?!" he nearly gagged, his eyes growing wide. BrainStem had been the name of his small organization of rebels before Zim had finally managed to crush them with a literal flood of battle clones. The alien had struck on Dib's birthday and he and his men had been celebrating their long-lived success. What was left of BrainStem was supposedly locked up in the containment center he had been imprisoned in.

"Yes, we're the new wave of rebels. I couldn't risk freeing all of those taken by Zim, but at least we have our leader back," she whispered with a small grin. Dib's cheeks flushed red.

"But that isn't my original logo, I see. Mine was the symbol of an atom," he remarked, pointing to her badge.

"I'm sorry Dib, we needed something a bit more modern," she explained, looking a bit embarrassed he had noticed. They sat in silence for a few more moments, dreading the sound of marching Irken feet. Gen was not entirely sure where to go from here. She had a map, but it was likely all the exits had been closed off. She still wondered how Zim had found out so quickly that she had stolen his prized prisoner...

"Dib?" she called, suddenly noticing that he wasn't beside her anymore.

"Over here," a voice replied from a darker spot of the room. Gen followed the sound as best she could and finally found Dib standing over something in the corner. On the floor lay a busted S.I.R robot...


	4. Age Old Hardships

Chapter 4 

Zim admired his countenance in the mirror, the dark black cape adorning his shoulders swinging behind him as he turned. The light caught its ripples, painting glittery crimson streaks up and down the length. Deep, red eyes flashed back at him, the fire that lurked beyond them waiting for an outlet. The Irken grinned, mocking his own reflection.

Long ago a child had lain on the cold tile, nutritious ooze squishing around his fragile green body. Immediately, he was tended to by the robot nurses and arms that swept around the room waiting for others to hatch. His tiny eyes blinked open and suddenly there was pain. Horrible drilling pain rushing up and down his spine. He would have screamed aloud had he been able to breathe... And then it stopped, a tiny robot withdrawing a pair of sharp instruments dripping with fluid from his back.

Zim fingered those two holes now as his backpack detached and fell to the floor. The permanent scars inside felt like shrill reminders of his early years.

_Zim stood back to back with another Irken child outside of the learning pods as a crowd of other aliens gathered around. Carefully, one of the boys lined a yardstick up between the two._

"Zim's cheating, you can't count your antennae," someone remarked. Zim grumbled and let his antennae fall flat, perturbed that he'd been caught.

"Alright...I've got it lined up," the kid with the yardstick announced. Zim bit his lip. He willed himself to be taller; he grabbed his spiritual self by the neck and **forced** himself to be taller.

"Yup, Greb is definitely taller."

The crowd began to laugh as Greb stepped aside and put his hands on his hips, giving Zim a triumphant sneer.

"I heard the shorter you are the stupider you are," he laughed.

"Ew, don't touch him, you might catch his shortness!" somebody else chimed in.

Zim cringed; one tiny gloved hand held up in protest against the bunch of giggling Irken girls and the vicious looking Irken boys.

"Shut up, you fools," he growled in a low voice. Nobody was even paying attention to him anymore, and they all were dispersing since the fun was over. "I'll...be...greater," Zim said softly, his hand balling into a fist as he turned away.

And greater he was. But taller he wasn't. For all his glory as ruler of the Earth, the filthy beast by the name of Greb still had him beat in the most important area of all on Irk. Seething with a sudden rush of anger, Zim tore away from the mirror and headed towards his desk like a missile heading towards an innocent town. His face mirrored the expression he had worn when his first mate-interest had dropped a pretty big bomb on him.

_"I hate you."_

Zim had trouble controlling his breathing, his antennae flattened to his head in rage. "What do you mean?" he choked.

"I said I hate you, Zim!"

Her voice was a high screech, her tender body shaking with rage. Zim had never been able to take his gaze off of her lovely purple eyes... But now, they were so flattened with anger that he could barley see their deeply buried irises.

"What reason in all of the Irken empire would you have to hate **me?**" he spat, striking a rather gallant pose.

"You ruined my life!"

"How?!" He could see her sobbing now, her wonderfully curly antennae bobbing gently. He longed to put an arm around her shoulder and tell her that he swore by his squeedily-spooch that he would never hurt her. But considering how angry she was, he might get his arm ripped off before he could say a word.

"Zim... I liked you a lot... and it was fun while it lasted... but you're jeopardizing my social reputation." She sighed and then continued, "Someone called me a midget- lover today... I'm really sorry Zim... But we can't be together anymore."

Shards of glass exploded inside Zim's head. He was silent for a long time, long enough for her to approach him tentatively. And that was when he shouted so loudly she fell to the floor and cringed at his feet.

"You're SORRY? How cute, yes indeed, she's sorry... Oh but Zim, we can't be together! You're a **midget**," he mocked, grinding his teeth and glaring down at her as if she were only a flea deserving of a fatal crush from his boot. He held up one hand and pointed at her menacingly.>

"What tallness I lack I will make up in victory." And then he had gone, leaving her all alone to cry in her dimly lit room.

By now, Zim had entered a four-digit code into the pad bolted to a desk drawer, and it was cycling open slowly. The Irken's eyes grew bigger with anticipation, his fingers twitching longingly. What lay inside was, by far, Zim's favorite weapon. He reached into the drawer and gently lifted a small, carved handle that fit exactly to the proportions of his palm. It slid easily into a predetermined grip, Zim's mouth widening into a grin that revealed a row of zipper-like teeth.

'The Doom-Bringer' had been especially designed for him at the height of his take-over. He'd threatened many a rebellion at the head of his clones, the Doom-Bringer held high. Intricate machinery inside the handle produced a concentrated beam of light when the button was pushed. The light formed a cutlass-like shape and shimmered in and out as it was waved. A most dangerous weapon, indeed. And yet, its perfect green blade had yet to be stained with blood. Zim really hadn't had a need to actually use it, as his men in battle always protected him. But perhaps today it would touch flesh.

Unbeknownst to him, a Keef guard lay against the wall outside his office, its eyes gone blank in unconsciousness. Beside him, Gaz crouched, her ear pressed to the wall. Most of what she had heard was those memories Zim had mumbled aloud... She hesitated slightly as Zim left through another exit, and then stalked into his office. Gaz had a plan she needed to execute, but she...was distracted... Memories from their small and often insulting talks at the end of his desk nudged at her... She had no wish to remember such things but they continued to plague for a while as she stood in the middle of his office...and thought...


End file.
